


look at me

by orphan_account



Category: THE iDOLM@STER
Genre: (it's not what you think it is), (takes place over 3 years), F/F, don't read!, uhhhhhhhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24833425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: will you ever see me for who i am, and not just as a kid?
Relationships: Futami Ami/Akizuki Ritsuko
Kudos: 8





	look at me

_Ricchan, can you hear me? I've liked you all this time._

_Hey, look at me._

\--

When I was a kid, my sister and I gave my parents a hell of a time. They were always searching for someone who could look after us, a pair of pranking, mischief-making, rambunctious twins. We just wanted to have fun, and that scared away every single prospective babysitter that crossed our doorstep. We were a hopeless case, they would say. Completely unmanageable.

Until a new family moved in two doors over. I was twelve or so, my short hair pulled up into a single pigtail, and my clothes consisting of colorful overalls and jackets with funky patterns. My sister would match with me, and we'd even switch places sometimes. It was our favorite trick.

She always saw right through it.

See, that family had a daughter in her last year of high school. And she was fiercer and stricter than any former babysitter had dared to be. She put up with exactly zero of our shit. Every one of those tricks, that we'd concocted like devious plans late at night, wrapped in blankets and snickering? She put a stop to them, without any mercy. She was _ruthless_. My parents were, of course, thrilled, and hired her consistently from then on. My sister and I? For us, it was a pain in the ass, it was annoying! _Right, Ami? Don't you think so? Let's come up with some plan that'll fool even someone as smart as her._

Except that was where my sister and I split. Sure, nobody likes being yelled at, but instead of any of that, I felt...drawn to her? I couldn't explain it back then, because I didn't have the words yet. But... She was so mature, and honestly kinda _pretty_ , even though I'd never admit it out loud. Even the thought made something inside me squirm, so I tried to ignore it. It was almost frustrating, almost annoying, but definitely not in the way Mami meant. I hated the tight squeezy feeling in my chest, the anxious itch, and the sweat in my palm.

As I grew up, it only got worse. Babysitter became tutor, after I strategically complained to my parents about struggling in Math and English. She was the natural choice, a then college student still staying with her parents in that neighboring house. And when I say she was smart, she knew damn near everything. She would easily reason through every problem, with only a tap to adjust the fall of her glasses. I was a dumbass when it came to academics, sure, but I wasn't as stupid as I claimed to be. The only reason my grades were in the toilet was because I fooled around too much and didn't bother with homework. Mami moved on right past me, getting into new friend groups in her volleyball team. She grew out her hair long, while I kept mine short, and retired the pigtail. We began to drift apart.

I was fifteen when I had my last tutoring session with Ricchan. She never bothered correcting me to tell me to call her by a more respectful name, because by this point it wasn't going to change, and she knew that. And maybe she had a little affection for me. I'd like to think so, anyway, even if I was just a kid to her. Even if that's the part that frustrates me the most.

Pen in hand, she tapped over my answers with the ball on the end, as she...leaned over me. When I say that, I mean she was _close_. Close enough that I could smell the shampoo off her hair. Her free hand gently grasped my shoulder while her—honestly pretty big—breasts pushed against me. My heart was in my throat. It bathumped so loudly, so clearly I thought she would absolutely point it out, but I guess she was too focused on the subject material. She felt close, she felt warm. I swallowed my fear, and looked at her.

She looked back, and said, "Ami? What is it? Is there something you want help with?" I suddenly became aware that I very much wanted to peel away her glasses, brush her hair out of her face and kiss her. I wanted to know what she tasted like, what flavor her voice would take on if I touched her. She would never let me. And so I just looked straight into her eyes, glittering brown and gold, and framed by long lashes. It wasn't like she was pretty just because she was older than me, and by this point a full fledged woman. She was pretty because she was Ricchan. I didn't think anyone could be more beautiful than how she looked right then, as cliche as it sounds. Her smooth, slightly wavy hair was lit by the evening sunlight pouring through the window.

And, dumbass that I was, I asked her. "Do you have a boyfriend?" I think my voice probably shook a little then; it didn't sound very cool. She blinked at me, and laughed, and suddenly she was sitting back down at her spot with mirth in her eyes and I was the fool.

"Ami, don't you think you're a little young to be asking that?" Her tone was amused. I was a child to her, even for the years that had passed, and I always would be. Even though her eyes were what mattered most to me. I wanted to sink right into the floor. My face felt unbearably hot, like you could fry just about anything on it, and my mouth twisted into a strange, unrecognizable shape. She could tell. There's _no way_ she couldn't. "How about I leave it to your imagination, and we get back to doing geometry?"

It stung. It stung so bad. The fact that not only was she rejecting me in one fell swoop, but that I wasn't even awarded that simple knowledge? The fact that she wouldn't even tell me something so basic, just because I was a few... Okay, more than a few years younger? How much of a child was I in her mind? "Ricchan," I said, a lump forming in my throat, "you're awful."

She appeared aware then that she had messed up. Her eyes widened, and then softened in a wry smile. "Ah... Sorry. That was rude, wasn't it? I don't have a boyfriend, no, but I'm also not interested in getting one. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Not interested? For someone her age? I turned over the new information in my mind. I may have been an idiot when it came to academics, but I wasn't stupid. That had gotta be code, right? I had said _boy_ friend. Maybe she just didn't like guys. Didn't that just give me more of a shot? I felt a strange twist in my chest, like she'd reached in and was wringing out my heart like a towel in her hands. And that's when I decided to be really brave, for the first time.

I pushed my chair back and stood up, in my jean shorts and the jacket tied around my hips. "Ami?" I heard her say. "We're not done yet, you know. Sit back down." I didn't listen. I wasn't going to listen this time; she didn't really have any authority anymore, did she? I was going to be an adult in just three years. I didn't have to take this. Instead, I approached her, came closer, even as she reflexively inched away. I didn't let her. "A-Ami?"

Her wrist, taken in my hand, felt so small and delicate. Was she really older than me? I was the taller one, after that growth spurt. I shot up right past her, and now I leaned down into her, our faces inches apart. I could hear someone's heartbeat thumping in my ears, but whether it was hers or mine, I had no idea.

I kissed her.

She tasted like traces of coffee and mint, and her lips were soft and warm. I molded into hers from an angle, my head tilted just like I'd seen people do in the movies. Mami'd always called it gross, and laughed about it, but I felt nervous. Because whether I knew it or not, Ricchan always lurked in my mind. The anxious squirm I got, my sweaty hands, the rising heat in my face... They were all her fault.

Fighting and struggling, she managed to push me away. She was breathing somewhat heavily, her face all flushed. It's not like I'd stopped her, so why hadn't she used her nose? But I realized she was angrier and, at the same time, more vulnerable than I'd ever seen her before. She looked so _small_. She wasn't some untouchable adult. Hell, she was barely older than me. That's what I learned that day.

After that, she took her purse and her things and she left for good. I don't remember what she said to me, but I don't think she knew herself. I got the sense that she was so flustered and upset and confused that it wasn't even about scolding me anymore. The face she made as she looked back at me, before she walked out the door, was the cutest I'd ever seen her. She was endearing, she was _adorable_. I knew, then, that this wasn't over. I hadn't had enough.

Even if she wanted it to be.

\--

Ricchan moved out of her parents' house soon after that. I don't know the details, because we weren't on speaking terms anymore, but I do know she never said a word to them about what happened. Because when I visited her family some several months later to ask where she was currently living, they happily gave me the information. "So cute," her mother said, "her little sister misses her."

Of course I miss her. We have unfinished business, after all. Address in hand, I take a train over one weekend. I don't know her work schedule, so for all I know she could not even be home. It's a gamble, in so many ways. I turned sixteen last month, which would make her very nearly twenty-two, seeing as her birthday is in just a few days. I wonder if she didn't want me because I'm younger, or because I'm a girl? I wonder if she's dating anyone now? I wonder where she's working, what she does day to day, what kinds of people she's friends with? I've never had the luxury of knowing, after all.

I climb the stairs, step by step, my heart rate speeding up with every passing minute. My parents insisted on having me deliver some fancy cookies as a gift, but will she even take them? Will she even want them? Or _me_? The stairs abruptly end, and I find myself facing her apartment door. Stay cool, Ami. Nobody's gonna want a shaking mess. Taking a moment to breathe, I press the doorbell in with my finger for a second, two. And I wait.

To my complete surprise, the door actually opens. "Who is it-," she starts to say, and I think to myself if it's her day off, because she's in very casual clothing. I can glance her cleavage from the cut of her shirt. Her hair is down too, falling in brown waves, but her glasses still remain. They frame her eyes as they darken in recognition. "Ami..."

In response, I lift up the box of cookies. "My mom asked me to give you these. Can we talk about stuff?" I don't know if it's a good enough excuse. She's guarded still, hesitates, and seems to consider saying no. But that's not what ultimately comes out; how lucky am I?

"Mm... Come in," she says, giving up. And opening the door the rest of the way, she lets me inside, and shuts it with a click. It's a small apartment, but I find that I like it very much. It smells like her. We sit on the sofa and I set the box down on the coffee table. I can tell she wants to keep a certain distance from me, but she also seems sad somehow. Guilty? _Ricchan, you don't even know what you did wrong._

There's a brief silence, hanging heavy in the air, before she says, "You don't have to apologize." I look back at her, though she still isn't meeting my eyes. "I'm the adult, and I should have properly rejected you. I'm sorry for hurting you."

No. _You're wrong_. That's not how it went. Frustration bubbles inside me that I don't know what to do with. She's avoiding me, she won't look at me, she's closed off from me completely. I hate this. _Please don't hate me_. Even though I know she will, if she doesn't already, especially after what I intend to do. I don't want her to hate me. I don't want to lose her.

But I want her so badly.

"I never said I was gonna apologize." She looks up immediately, eyes wide with shock, horror? Maybe even regret? I look at her with the utmost seriousness that I can muster. I'm older now, Ricchan. I'm cooler now. I'm not the kid you babysat anymore. And I'm not good at being patient and waiting for you to finally see that. Without giving her any time to react—I learned my lesson—I kiss her. I kiss her _hard_. My arms press her into the side of the sofa, pinning her beneath me. My figure is slimmer still, my own breasts never got that big, but I can feel hers squishing against me. Is she wearing a bra...?

She struggles against me again, but I push my tongue into her mouth. That's how adults do it, right? Has she kissed anyone else like this? I'm probably not the first, I think, and it's a bitter feeling. I don't want to give her to anyone else. I touch and twist my tongue in her mouth, tracing along every surface I can reach, and that's when I hear it: " _Mm_..."

That was a moan, wasn't it? My breath hitches in my throat. The sound of it is so sweet and raw and real, and I know then that there's no holding back, there's no turning back. This is the point of no return. I want to hear more of her voice in this unique flavor, something I'd never even been able to imagine, and so I pull back just enough to bury my face in her neck and shower her with nibbles and kisses.

"Ami, _no_..." she sighs. She might be older, but I'm taller and stronger, and I'm not letting her go again. My teeth graze her bare collarbone, and she holds back another sound. Her lips are tight shut, but I know how to open them back up. I use one hand to slide up her loose sweater, and... Yeah, no bra. "N-No. You can't!" she says, voice shaking. I pretend to ignore it, but really, her resistance just makes it more fun.

Her skin is so soft and smooth. I'd always wondered what her breast would feel like in the palm of my hand, so I mold and massage it with some degree of curiosity. My finger carelessly thumbs her nipple. " _St...op_ ," she tries again, desperately, but all I can think is: oh, that must feel good. I tease it again, and again, and she squirms under me. "Ami, you can stop. You can... Please..." Her voice is drenched and teary, and it's kind of hot.

I shove up her sweater the rest of the way, and run my tongue along her skin, leaving a thin wet trail. She tastes somewhat salty with sweat, as she shakes with every breath. My tongue then flicks that tip again and circles it round. I nibble it with my teeth, and she trembles underneath me. " _Ah_ -... No, please," she cries. " _Please_." Please continue? Well, if you insist. I grin to myself.

Still teasing her nipple, I use my right hand to slide down between her thighs, up her skirt. My fingers press into the fabric of her panties. Completely soaked. "You keep saying no, but your body is much more honest." She turns her face away from me, eyes shut tight. A tear slides down her flushed cheek. I test it again, pressing deeper, and this time she has to cover her mouth. Does it feel that good? Does she want me that badly?

I lace my fingers under and peel away her panties, pulling them further down her thighs. And I use my middle finger to dip a bit inside. It's so _warm_ and wet. I play around the area of her clit, teasing just enough to make her go crazy. I know she wants it. She keeps telling me in her muffled voice to _stop, stop_ but it's so obvious she wants it. And she's getting pretty close now too. "Ricchan, can you hear me?" I say, cheek resting against her breast. She shakes her head furiously. So stubborn, but that's cute about her too. "I've liked you all this time." My feelings fall from my lips, probably still unheard, but I say them anyway. I need to. "All these years, I've been in love with you. Hey, look at me." She doesn't. She refuses to. I knew this would happen, I prepared myself for it, but it still hurts so bad.

I attack her clit directly, and she can no longer hold back her voice, her desperate squirming. "Ah--... Ami please, stop, no, you can't... _No_..." Her breathing is heavy, dripping and hot. I decide to take my last opportunity. I lean back up so that our faces are inches apart. Her glasses are ajar, fogged, smudged, and her lips are wet. I kiss them with all my might. She still tastes like coffee.

Bittersweet.

She arches against me as she reaches the very edge, at last, but also too soon, and against the skin of my fingers I feel a spurt of hotter liquid. It drips and dribbles through onto the sofa, against her will. _Is she_...?

I pull away, and she pants through her rosy lips, sweat dripping down her forehead. Her beautiful eyes are full of tears just about to spill over. A thin line of spit glitters on her chin. If this were under better circumstances, I would be gentle with her. I would kiss her tears away. I would love her like she deserves to be loved.

But I'm not that good of a person, am I?

\--

_Ricchan._

_Ricchan._

_I'm sorry._

**Author's Note:**

> me too ami


End file.
